


Let My Lusts Be My Ruin

by veronamay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, POV Dean Winchester, Porn Watching, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the most he's had of Sam in nearly three years; the only indication that Sam thinks of him at all.  Pre-series, set right before 1x01.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let My Lusts Be My Ruin

NEW ORLEANS  
OCTOBER 4, 2005

Dean kicks the door shut behind him and all but faceplants onto the bed, every muscle aching with fatigue. He's just spent the last four hours digging up a _mambo_ 's grave, and he is _bushed_. He's still not used to pulling these gigs alone.

It's fifteen minutes before he musters up the energy to roll to his feet and head toward the bathroom. It's tempting to just stay where he is, but he's covered in sweat and dirt, and if he doesn't shower now he'll regret it in the morning.

The water pressure is for shit, but at least it's hot. Dean faces into the spray and lets his head hang, watching through half-closed eyes as the filth is washed away from his skin. Another day, another job ... well, done, if not _well done_. He's starting to not care about that particular distinction anymore. The voodoo bitch is gone, nobody died; that's good enough for him.

He stays in the shower until his fingertips are wrinkled, well after he's washed clean. By the time he stumbles back to the bed, it's verging on three a.m. Dean's body is tired, but his mind is wide awake. He needs a distraction or he'll never get to sleep. Normally it wouldn't be a problem; Dad would be here to have a drink with, a quiet debrief, or he'd be able to poke and prod at Sammy until his brother got riled up enough to snap back. But Dad's off on his own job, and Sam's in California, and Dean guesses this is what's normal now. Silence, except for the sound of his own breathing and the faint creak of bedsprings from the room next door.

He's always hated silence. It reminds him too much of the inside of his own head.

"Porn," Dean says aloud, reaching for the laptop. Porn is always the answer; anyone who thinks otherwise doesn't understand the question. Lesbian cheerleaders, maybe. He's in the mood for something wholesome tonight.

When he gets to the site he wants, though, Dean hesitates. When he finally positions the mouse and clicks, it's not his usual fare that fills the screen.

FRAT BOY PORN, screams the lurid purple banner across the top of the page. LIVE WEBCAMS, VIDEOS, PHOTOS, CHAT. FREE 14 DAY TRIAL - JOIN NOW! Underneath that, there's a still shot of a Midwestern farm boy type sprawled across a college dorm bed, sulky and sultry with one hand behind his head and the other shoved into the fly of his jeans. Dean looks at it for a long moment before clicking again.

It only takes a minute to register, and then he's browsing through hundreds, maybe thousands of semi-professional videos, waiting for something to catch his eye. He's never done the gay porn thing before--guys, sure, he's fucked around some, but his tastes are fairly traditional when it comes to spanking the monkey. He could get into this, though. He's flexible.

There's a list of categories running down the left side of the page. Dean cruises through them quickly, not really sure what he's looking for until he finds it. When he does, his body jerks just slightly, his heart already pounding a little faster.

There are over twenty pages of solo videos, but Dean's too impatient to look through them all now that he's got a goal. He clicks into random pages, dismissing some videos here, considering others there, until one in particular brings him to a halt. The sample shot is simple and anonymous, just a close up of the guy's cock bracketed by lean-muscled thighs and slim hips, but something about it appeals to him. He doesn't think twice before loading the video.

When he hits play, Dean is sprawled out naked on the bed with the laptop beside him, the video set to full screen. Two minutes in he's hard as iron, cock in hand and eyes glued to the screen. He keeps forgetting to stroke because he's too busy watching the faceless guy in the video get himself off. There's nothing particularly unusual about it; it's a little weird that the camera never pans above the guy's stomach, and he's wearing black leather driving gloves that are _seriously_ revving Dean's engines, but he figures the guy doesn't want to be identified. It's a couple more minutes before he figures out what keeps bugging him aside from how hot the video is.

The guy is almost completely silent. The video has no soundtrack, nothing to distract from the show he's putting on for the camera, but Dean can't hear anything except for the rustle of sheets and the slick sound of wet leather on skin. There are no moans, no harsh panting breaths, no whispered curses or choked off sounds to indicate he's doing anything more strenuous than napping. His breathing is maybe a little uneven, and his stomach muscles contract and release smoothly with every stroke, but other than that he might as well not be touching himself at all.

Dean sits upright, breath hitching in his throat. This is ... it's familiar, but he can't place it right away. He goes still, listening to the utter silence of the video echoing in the room around him. Feels himself breathing in sync with the guy easily, without thinking, like he's done it a thousand times before. Realisation hits him hard in the gut two seconds later and he chokes, because he _has_ done this before. With Sam.

He stares at the screen, all the breath shocked out of him. He's been sitting here for the past six and a half minutes jerking off to the sight of his little brother in black leather gloves, and enjoying every second. Is still enjoying it, because he can't tear his eyes away and his cock is leaking precome and his balls are drawn up so tight they ache, and even if Dad walked through the door right now Dean doesn't think he could stop. He's matching Sam stroke for stroke, breath for breath, and it feels like the hottest, filthiest thing he's ever done.

Sam's getting close; it's obvious now that he knows what to listen for. He's had years of hearing Sam do this, years of doing it himself, the long-entrenched habit of being quiet in shared quarters, shared beds. They never mentioned it, learned to ignore it, except apparently Dean didn't learn as well as he should have because he can tell that Sam is going to shoot his load in about thirty seconds, and the knowledge makes him flush all over. He bites down on his lip and strips his cock harder, racing Sam to the finish line, and is in the midst of a truly spectacular orgasm when he hears the faintest whisper drift out of the laptop's speakers.

_"Dean."_

It catches him completely by surprise, as does the hot surge of lust that rips through him and makes his cock pulse one last time, leaving him wrung out and boneless, too exhausted to be horrified. He watches the instant replay of Sam's money shot, thick pearly splatters painting his stomach and dripping down his cock, and when it's over he closes the laptop with a shaky hand and turns his back on it to sleep.

Five days later, Dean has visited the site a dozen times. He's downloaded all four of Sam's videos: three solos and one scene with a preppy buttoned-down type that's so incongruous Dean would laugh, if he could get past the sickeningly irrational jealousy that rises up whenever he thinks about it. He doesn't watch that one after the first time, but he downloads it anyway, because just like in every other video, Sam whispers Dean's name before he comes.

Dean hasn't so much as thought about checking in with Dad, or looking for another job. He's never jerked off so much in his life. He wants to strangle Sam for whoring himself out like this, and he wants to shove him against a wall or on a bed and get his own private show. It's wrong and sick and his stomach twists every time, but he can't stop watching. It's the most he's had of Sam in nearly three years; the only indication that Sam thinks of him at all. He doesn't know what to do with the mess of feelings churning in his gut, but it's better than the hollow silence he's been slowly getting used to. Better than thinking Sam hates him, or wants to forget him altogether.

 _No_ , his conscience whispers. _He wants to fuck you. And you want it just as bad. Sick bastards, both of you. What would Dad say if he knew?_

It doesn't matter, Dean decides, because Dad's never going to know. Neither is Sam. Dean's probably never going to see his brother again anyway, so the issue is moot. He ignores the icy sliver of emptiness that slides through him at the notion. It's not like it's news; Sam made himself perfectly clear on that point when he left for college. This ... fascination ... with Sam's porn videos is an aberration, an overreaction to missing his brother. It'll fade, and he'll forget about it, and that'll be that.

Two weeks later, Dean's cock is raw and overstimulated and he can't get Sam's newest video out of his head. His phone rings in the middle of his third jerkoff session of the day; he lets it go to voicemail and forgets to check it until hours later.

It's from Dad, and from the sound of the EVP in the background, he's in trouble. Dean counts back the days and feels a jolt of sudden worry when he realises he hasn't spoken to his father in over a week. He hits number two on speed dial and listens to John's voice telling him to call Dean's cell for help.

Six hours later, after extracting all the information he can from Dad's voicemail and exhausting every lead he has, Dean is in the Impala heading west on I-10, shoving everything to the back of his mind except for two goals: get Sam. Find Dad. The rest of it can wait.

END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Let My Lusts Be My Ruin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337818) by [applegeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/applegeuse/pseuds/applegeuse)




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